


Tethered

by BouncyPickle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BouncyPickle/pseuds/BouncyPickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a horrible, unforgivable, life-changing accident, Stiles and Derek are tied together by fate. And a magical, unbreakable, foot long rope. They are going to have to learn to get along, if they don't kill each other that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okay, so this is pretty old but I kept forgetting to put it up so...here you go! Enjoy.

* * *

 

 

So...this was definitely **not** the outcome Stiles had foreseen. 'Backfire' kind of felt like a huge, massively appalling understatement. This was more akin to _complete-and-undeniable-failure-of-extremely-epic-proportions-that-no-one-could-ever-come-back-from_. But backfire was a lot easier to say.

First of all, in Stiles' defense, the plan was _nearly_ fool proof. But considering the absolutely unquantifiable amount of idiocy that his friends seemed to possess, he should have known those dumb-asses would muck it up.

Still. Ending up **chained** to Derek _freaking_ Hale just seemed like some cruel fucking joke. Or the plot of some poorly written Twilight fanfiction. Like Fifty Shades of Gray shit. Only without the sex, thank god.

The two of them being stuck together 24/7 was _dangerous_. He was risking his life here! Derek's normal grumpiness was multiplied by a thousand and Stiles' snide comments were not helping to quell his rage.

They had no idea how to get out of this situation, according to Deaton. The _tether the bad guy to a ritual stone so he couldn't escape interrogation_ plan had sounded perfect when it was nothing more than words. When they had tried to put it in action, not so much.

Stiles was to hold one end of Deaton's enchanted lasso, and Allison the other. There was some rule about monsters not touching it that Stiles hadn't listened to.

Essentially the plan worked like this; Scott led the bad guy to the tether, then flanking the creature, Derek forced him into their web. Once there, Stiles and Allison had to reconnect the ends, having wrapped it around the ritual stone beforehand. It was a highly advanced binding spell, although Deaton failed to mention that before, so they could finish the job of catching the monster. Easy enough.

When it came down to the performance, it was a complete blunder. The creature had been faster than they thought. And it had wings. Scott had been knocked on the shoulder, tripping over the rope and wrenching it from Stiles' and Allison's grasps. The creature went for Allison, so Scott leaped up to save her while Derek and Stiles dove for the magical tether.

Each of them grabbed an end and then Scott was thrown backwards, knocking Stiles into Derek and ripping the rope off of the ritual stone. Stiles tried to catch himself, so did Derek, and when their hands touched, so did the ends of the tether. It sealed itself, wrapping tightly around Stiles' right wrist and Derek's left until there was nothing more than a foot between them.

That had been two nights ago. Stiles and Derek were still very much stuck with each other. And _yeah_ the sleepovers were awkward as shit.

“Just _how long_ are we going to be stuck like this,” Stiles whined. Again. For the hundredth time—in the last hour; “Today is Monday. Just how do I explain _you,_ ” he threw a hand at Derek; “and _this,_ ” he motioned towards the red string between them; “at school?”

“You don't,” Derek bit, shifting away irritably; “because you aren't going.”

“Like hell I'm not!” and maybe Stiles was just arguing for the sake of contradiction, because normally an excuse to stay home was never turned down; “I have already missed too many days dealing with your werewolf bullshit. I can't afford to miss anymore. It's called _graduating_ and well it kind of relies on me actually going to school.”

“I am not following you around all day, I have things to do!” Derek snapped.

“Like what?” Stiles rolled his eyes; “Sitting alone in your creepy apartment with all the lights off _brooding_?”

“I do not _brood_ ,” Derek seethed; “And how do you plan on going to school with _this_?” he lifted his arm, pulling Stiles' up along with it. Then, Stiles had the greatest idea ever. Okay, so maybe it was more like 'just decent', but Stiles would take what he could get.

“This plan sucks,” Derek grumbled as Stiles rummaged through his closet, trying to find his backpack before school started.

“Just—shh,” Stiles scowled; “Remember; you no speaky English.”

“It doesn't even make sense!” Derek barked quietly, “I don't look Hispanic. _At all_.”

“You look like you could be from Spain,” Stiles countered, glancing quickly at Derek; “Maybe. Just don't say anything, alright? No one is going to ask anyway.”

“Stiles, I don't speak _any_ Spanish,” the older man's eyes darted towards the window and Stiles thought he was going to attempt an escape.

“That's why you keep your mouth shut, _Miguel,_ ” Stiles leaned closer , his voice hushing to a whisper; “Danny will confirm our cover story, okay? Your my cousin Miguel from Spain and _this_ ,” Stiles lifted their arms, “is some crazy Spanish tradition or something. Does that work for you?”

“No!” Derek protested; “What if someone _recognizes_ me? Like, I don't know, a teacher or something?”

“That's why I got you the hat and sunglasses, right?” Stiles shoved them into Derek's chest; “Disguise.”

“I am _not_ wearing those,” Derek bit and pushed them back into Stiles' arms.

“Uh, yes you are,” Stiles shoved them at Derek again, but the taller man thrust them back into Stiles' chest.

Derek glared, cold and dangerous, and Stiles scowled right back, neither man conceding. Finally, Stiles chucked the hat and glasses at Derek's face with an annoyed huff, which quickly turned into a yelp when Derek caught him by the front of his shirt and shoved Stiles backwards. Clearly, he had forgotten they were chained together.

Stiles landed on the floor with a gasp and Derek was wrenched down with him, grunting and toppling onto Stiles. And wasn't that just freaking peachy.

“ _Uhn_ ,” Stiles whined; “Get off.”

“I'm trying,” Derek growled back.

“Come on,” Stiles ground out trying to catch his breath. When he'd landed, the wind had been knocked right out of him. “ _Hurry up_ Derek.”

“My-I _can't,”_ Derek bit, his voice quiet but frustrated.

Stiles shifted uncomfortably, his legs spread embarrassingly on either side of Derek's hips and this situation became so much worse when he looked down. Derek's belt buckle was caught on the button of Stiles' pants. “Just, like, jerk it off or something!”

Derek's hand shot down to remedy their situation. Tugging at it was not helping. “Stiles, it won't-” he grumbled.

Then Stiles was pulling at them too. “Let me, I can get you off faster,” Stiles offered, grunting as he squirmed under Derek's hard body.

“Stiles? Derek? What the...?” Scott's voice had both of the men on the floor snapping up, wide eyes landing on the boy standing in the doorway. Something akin to realization flickered into his face and he turned five new shades of red. “Oh my god! You two-?! Dude!” He shielded his eyes and jumped back out the door. Stiles got the impression Scott was getting the wrong one.

“Wait, Scott,” Stiles pushed at Derek's chest, not that the older man could get away even if he tried; “It isn't what it looks like.”

“That's what people always say when it's exactly what it looks like!” Scott retorted; “Plus I heard **it** , you guys. I'll never _un-hear_ it.”

“Scott,” Derek spoke with his voice all levels of seriousness and the epitome of calm; “Listen to my heart. We fell and my belt is stuck. We _aren't_ having sex. Okay?”

There was a pause in the hallway and Stiles took the opportunity to lift his hips upwards. Derek's wide eyes snapped down just in time to see Stiles slide the button from the buckle. Ah, freedom. Once they were apart they stood as far from one another as possible.

“I can't believe you thought the Sourwolf and I were actually boning,” Stiles scoffed; “Come on Scott, I know Derek and I have gotten closer, unwillingly and uncomfortably I might add, but really dude!”

“Well, sorry, but you two really sounded-It doesn't matter,” Scott fumbled, coming back into Stiles' room, still looking horribly uncomfortable; “I just came over to tell you I'd pick up all your assignments and stuff. The school thinks you're like really, really sick so you should be covered for a while. If you miss something important Isaac and Lydia said they'd tutor you, I would but...”

“Jeez, just how long am I going to be stuck like this?” Stiles groaned and Scott offered him a shrug.

“I don't know, but you should come up with something to tell your father because we _are not_ staying here;” Derek barked.

“Yeah, no. We aren't going anywhere Derek,” Stiles shot a look of distaste to Derek, not really surprised to see the wolf showering him with a very similar glare.

“I have important things to do which don't include sitting around on my ass all day playing video games. _Stiles_ ,” the older man growled around the name and Stiles rolled his eyes. That had lost its effect a long time ago.

Scott took a step back; “Yeah, I'm gonna go.” No one paid him any mind.

“What? Like sitting around on your ass all day hating the world? Because, trust me, dude, you fester in angst more than Edward Cullen,” Stiles retorted; “I have a computer here. _That_ means I can work on researching a way to get out of _this_ ,” he lifted their joint arms into Derek's face and Derek wrenched them down.

“Do not call me 'dude' and who the _hell_ is Edward Cullen?” Derek snapped.

Squinting, Stiles sent Derek a disbelieving look; “What era are you even _from_ , man? He's the broody vampire in _Twilight,_ the one that Bella falls in love with and-” the look of complete and utter disinterest on Derek's face had Stiles cutting himself off; “You know what? It doesn't matter. The only way to get out of _this_ ,” he lifted their hands again and Derek scowled; “is to _find_ a way out. How do you propose we do that in your creepy, furniture-less flat?”

“We could talk to Peter,” Derek countered; “He might know something.” Stiles' heart skipped a beat and, yeah, he didn't really feel very comfortable around Peter. Derek seemed to catch on and he sighed.

“Okay, look,” Stiles rubbed a hand through his hair; “What about going to the library? We can both research and even take books back to your creepy lair and work from there. I don't really want to have to explain you to my dad anyways. I'll just tell him I'm going to Scott's for a while.”

To Stiles' relief, Derek just nodded.

 The library, which Stiles admittedly visited very infrequently, was old. Like, really old. He was surprised it was still even _standing_ let alone open. But, Stiles figured, the longer it had been around the more apt they were to find something.

“This building looks worse than your family's house,” Stiles muttered, not missing the way Derek scowled at him; “We should have gone to the other library.”

“The one next to the school or the one by the police station?” he barked and tugged at their joined arms; “Are we going in or not?”

“After you,” Stiles quipped, holding the door open so Derek could walk through it. When the werewolf didn't say anything, Stiles rolled his eyes. “You're welcome.”

Derek's eyes searched the tight rows of dusty shelves cramped into the equally tight, dusty room. At the front desk an old lady was sleeping—and snoring. Loudly. “Where do we start?”

“The couple's therapy section,” Stiles shook his head, giving Derek a disbelieving stare; “Where do you think? Wikipedia.”

Derek frowned at him; “Where is that? By theology and mythology?”

“It's _on the computer_ ,” Stiles tossed his, and Derek's, hands into the air; “Seriously man, how do you freaking _live_?”

“In a burned down house and an abandoned subway station,” Derek snapped, wrenching his arm down; “And Stiles?”

Stiles quirked a brow; “Yeah, what's up?”

Derek slapped him on the back of the head; “There are no computers here!”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles rubbed gingerly at his head, although it didn't even hurt; “Let's just grab all the books we can find on Wicca and Graeco-Roman magic. Since binding spells are most commonly used in those. We could maybe find some stuff in Celtic books too.”

Derek quirked a brow at him and Stiles huffed, pulling them along to the appropriate sections. As he removed books from the shelves, he shoved them into Derek's arms until the man finally caved and carried them without argument.

“Okay, I think that's all the books they have here,” Stiles stood, stretching as he did so.

“Now what?” Derek snapped around the tower of tomes piled in front of his face.

Stiles leaned back, peering around the bookshelf to see that the old librarian was indeed still snoozing away. “Now...” Stiles took a step back, slowly, carefully and deliberately; “We run.” He lurched forward before Derek yanked him to an abrupt halt.

“Why?” Derek's voice was annoyed, as always; “We can just check them out.”

“Yeah, but that requires money and an ID and an explanation and, come on, let's just _go_ ,” Stiles was feeling jittery. He hated the cramped space between the aisles, hated his complete lack of personal space, because what little there was had been taken by Derek. He was nearly positive Derek was not enjoying himself either. “She's asleep. She won't even know.”

“Who's asleep?”

A shaky, old voice behind Stiles had the younger man whirling around, nearly ripping Derek's arm off in the process. The stack of books the wolf had been holding crashed to the floor as Derek's face slammed into the back of Stiles' head.

“Stiles, what the hell?!” Derek yelled, rubbing at his bruising cheekbone.

“Sorry!” Stiles spared Derek an apologetic glance; “She scared the crap out of me!”

“Do you boys need help...?” the old woman was tiny, no taller than five feet, and teetering on her weak, old legs. She shifted her glasses up her petite nose but Stiles was fairly certain she couldn't even see the way she was squinting so hard. That, or she had a serious phobia of losing her eye balls. It probably wasn't the ladder.

“Um, no actually we already—I mean we just sort of found all of the things, and we were going to check them out and,” Stiles blathered, falling gracelessly to the floor, trying to pick up the books. Derek was pulled forward as well, stopping himself from falling and jerking Stiles' arm up so he could straighten his posture.

“ _Yes_ , thank you ma'am,” Derek was all smooth voice and charming grins; “we just need to check these out, if it's no trouble.”

“Of course dearie,” the lady smiled, a grandmother's smile that was generally reserved for freshly baked cookies and the act of sharing them; “You know it is so nice to see you volunteer tutors coming here again. Used to come here all the time bringing the _special_ kids from that school on State Street,” she sighed and Derek grinned mockingly at Stiles. Bastard; “Now I don't get so many visitors at all...”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but Derek cut him off. “Yes, well, I think you will always have the best selection. I wouldn't go anywhere else.” Derek buttered up while Stiles stacked the books onto the counter.

“Going on the school account I assume?” the librarian asked, scanning all the covers with speed that didn't quite seem humanly _possible_.

“Yes please,” Derek grinned and the woman never questioned him. Stiles rolled his eyes, Derek's stupid smile couldn't possibly charm everyone, “Stiles?” Derek grinned, a soft and polite gesture that caught Stiles off guard; “Will you carry the books please?”

Stiles grabbed the pile of tomes. “Uh, y-yeah, sure.”

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

 “Did you find anything yet?” Derek huffed. Again. Echoing slightly in the vacancy of his loft.

“ _No,_ ” Stiles rolled his eyes, his stare landing on Derek; he was sitting on the cement, leaning against a pole and Stiles was laying on his stomach next to him. “Research takes time. And Adderall. Asking me about it every five seconds isn't gong to make me read faster. The opposite in fact, it's distracting.”

“Then tell me what to do!” Derek snapped; “I can't help if I don't know what to look for!”

“Trust me, you sitting there and _shutting up_ is going to be about as helpful as you get,” Stiles turned a page lazily, ignoring Derek's growling.

“Give me a book Stiles,” Derek ordered, and Stiles quirked a brow at him. Yeah, Derek didn't think that would actually work, did he? “I am not just _sitting_ here. Give me one of them. Right now.”

Derek lunged for one and Stiles slid it out of his reach. “ _No_ ,” Stiles flicked Derek's nose, “bad dog.”

“ _Stiles_ , I am going to kill you,” Derek reached for it again, to no avail.

“Does the bad dog wanna bone?” Stiles jeered. He laughed at the complete contempt in Derek's face.

“Give it to me,” Derek was panting now, leaning far over Stiles as he reached for the book, “I want it _now_.”

“Only if you beg,” Stiles chuckled, absolutely high on the power pushing Derek around gave him, “Now be a good puppy and _beg_.”

Derek let out a low feral growl and launched himself onto Stiles, pinning his arms with one hand and grabbing the book with the other. He waved it in front of Stiles' face, straddling the younger man's hips. “Now that I have you at my will I think you deserved to be _punished._ ”

Stiles eyes shot open wide and he licked his lips nervously. “Wha-what do you-?” But he was interrupted when something hot and wet and hard was forced into his ear. “Ah!” he squirmed, “Get it out Derek! It hurts!” Derek chuckled and continued the administration of the wet-willie; “It won't go any further; stop! I get it, I'm sorry. Please stop!”

“Derek! What the hell are you-!” Isaac burst through the doors, charging into the room with waning enthusiasm; “guys doing...?”

“I was just teaching him a lesson,” Derek said, his voice clipped and to the point, “Why? What did you think I was doing?”

“It just really sounded like you two were...” Isaac's words trailed off as a blush settled deeply into his features; “you know.”

Derek squinted up at him, sincerely confused; “We were what?”

“Derek!” Stiles interjected, grabbing Derek by the arm to get his attention; “That!” he was pointing fervently at the page the book had opened to after Derek had dropped it. Binding spells, rituals, sex dolls. That last one held no relevance but Derek perked up at the other titles on the page; “That shows you how to make your own sex doll!” Derek smacked Stiles on the back of the head, “God, it was a freaking _joke._ This is what we need to know, the binding spells. There is a whole chapter on them.”

“Then _start reading,_ ” Derek sneered and Stiles snorted.

“What happened to wanting to help?” Stiles turned his focus to the book.

“It looks like you've got it under control,” Derek shrugged, a smug grin littering his face; “Besides I'm busy now.”

“Yeah, right,” Stiles shook his head and lost himself in the text.

Stiles slammed the book closed with a loud thud. He really did _not_ want to read any more of that. Not good news. Nope, definitely _not_ good news. Absolutely fucking terrible, awkward life-changing news.

“Did you find something?” Derek asked, trying to mask the excitement in his voice, and beside them Isaac perked up as well.

“Yes...” Stiles sighed, “and no.”

“What does that mean?” Derek snapped, good mood fading.

“Well...” Stiles sat up, deliberately looking any where but Derek's face; “I found t-two ways to fix _this_ ,” he motioned to their hands.

When Stiles made it apparent he wasn't going to say more, Derek pressed; “ _And_?”

“One;” Stiles licked his lips, why, God, did this keep happening to him; “we have to go back to the ritual stone, perform some crazy ceremony under the full moon,” why is it always the full moon?, “and then drink this crazy concoction that's probably poisonous, which effects werewolves a lot more than humans, dance until the sunrise...in the nude. Covered in patchouli oil. Then cut it with the fang of a starved lion...” Silence.

“...or?” Derek growled.

“We-” Stiles voice cracked and he shifted uncomfortably; “we have sex.”

A tense cloud of disquiet rolled into the atmosphere, Stiles and Derek adamantly avoided eye contact. Isaac cleared his throat and both men snapped their attention up to him.

“Well...” he shifted under their stares and offered them a shrug; “I know where to get patchouli oil.”

 “Okay...” Lydia's voice sounded positively irate, even through the small speaker on the phone; “I get all of that, Stiles. What I don't understand is why you're calling me...?”

“Well, you have the most experience doing creepy rituals under the full moon,” Stiles offered, before hastily adding; “and you're like _super_ smart, so we could use a little help with translating some stuff and mixing up the concoction, since you also know more about that than anyone.”

Stiles could _hear_ Lydia rolling her eyes. “Fine,” she replied, her voice too calm, beneath it was the unmistakable sizzle of anger; “Where are we doing this?”

“Isaac and Scott need to pick up some stuff from Deaton, and they're probably going to need your help,” Stiles grabbed his jacket off his bedroom floor and frowned when he realized he had no way to put it on.

“And where are _you_ going?” Lydia chided.

“Me and Derek, uh...have to pick up some things,” Stiles' eyes darted over to Derek, taking in his unamused glare; “we will be over later.”

“Okay,” Lydia's chipper voice was somehow unsettling; “I get it. Have fun boys~!” Then the call was ended and Stiles frowned in confusion. What about any of this was fun? Lydia had a very sick sense of humor.

“If we aren't going to help with the preparations, Stiles,” Derek scowled, “Then what are we doing?”

“My dad has a friend in Animal Control-”

“And?” Derek snapped impatiently, “The full moon is _tonight_ , we don't have time for this!”

“ _And_ he was telling my dad about a mountain lion they had to put down. A _starving_ mountain lion,” Stiles picked up a hat and glasses from the floor, grinning; “We are going to get one of its fangs.” He stuffed the accessories into Derek's chest; “Now put on your disguise.”

“Where did you even get this?” Derek grumbled, tearing the 'disguise' from Stiles' grip moodily. It was a dark purple fishing cap, adorned in gold fish. The glasses were something only Ray Charles could pull off. Stiles shrugged. “I am not wearing this Stiles.”

“I don't have any other hats though...” Stiles sighed, “And I can't have anyone seeing us together, especially someone my dad works with.”

“I'm not wearing the hat,” Derek tossed it onto Stiles' bed, “But I'll wear these. Okay?” He slid the thick, dark glasses on and turned to Stiles for approval.

“I guess that will work, I'm just glad you didn't put your leather jacket on the other night,” Stiles snickered; “No one will recognize you without it. It's like a part of you.”

Derek rolled his eyes, not that Stiles could see it anyway and an ever-so-subtle smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Shut up.”

“Okay, now let me do the talking,” Stiles said as they approached the animal control center; “I know this guy so it will be really easy to get past him. Just...don't draw attention to yourself.” Derek pulled the door open and Stiles stepped around him and into the building.

“Wait, Stiles!” Derek whispered as he was pulled inside, he tugged at Stiles arm attached to his own; “How do we explain-?” But it was too late, the burly man at the front desk was already turning around to greet them.

Without so much as a second thought, Stiles snatched up Derek's hand, successfully hiding the red rope holding them together. When the big man saw Stiles he smiled, and it only faltered a little bit when his eyes flicked down and saw he was holding Derek's hand.

Stiles followed the man's gaze and his stomach dropped. Yeah, he did not need this loud mouth telling his dad that Stiles was holding hands with a tall, broody _man._ “Hey,” Stiles greeted casually, leading Derek to the counter by an iron grip on his fingers.

“Hey there Stiles...” the man started awkwardly, his eyes darting between them; “What-what's up?”

Stiles quirked a brow. “Oh, him?” he motioned toward Derek, “He is a foreign exchange student staying with my family. Get this! He's freaking blind man! I have to, like, lead him around until he memorizes everything.” Stiles leaned against the counter easily.

The man's face lit up as Derek's frown deepened. “That's crazy! Its nice to meet you,” he smiled at Derek awkwardly; “Does he speak English?”

Stiles shrugged; “I don't know. He doesn't really say much. It's must be like a-” Derek squeezed his hand, _hard_ , and Stiles yelped, straightening himself; “Right. Well, anyway, my dad sent me over during my free period. Said he needed some report or something? Told me you'd know what I was talking about.”

The man frowned, his brow furrowed in thought. “Let me see...” he rifled through the papers scattered across the desk; “I thought I had it here. Must be in the back room. Do you mind waiting a minute while I look?”

“Not at all,” Stiles grinned.

“Then I'll be right back.” The moment the man's back was turned to them, Stiles was hauling Derek toward the door behind the front desk.

“Okay, they keep all the animals and stuff locked up back here,” Stiles explained; “Maybe the cougar is still back here or something.”

“It better be,” Derek grumbled under his voice, “otherwise this was all for nothing.”

“Can't you just be _positive_ for like five freaking seconds?” Stiles side-stepped around an open doorway, dragging Derek with him; “Do you know how hard it was to find a freaking _starved lion_? In California?”

“Do you know how hard it is to not jump you?” Derek retorted and at Stiles' appalled look, floundered for words; “I meant to kill you, and you know it.”

“I'm not so sure,” Stiles quirked a cheeky brow; “Maybe this was your plan all along. Binding spell so you could get into my pants? You need help.”

Scowling, Derek shoved Stiles, tripping him.

The younger man fell through the swinging doors in front of him and Derek was pulled down behind him. They landed in a heap of tangled limbs and awkward silence on the cold linoleum floor.

“ _Why_ does this keep happening?” Stiles sighed into the plastic tiles.

“Stiles,” Derek's tone demanded Stiles' attention; “Is that the mountain lion there?”

“ _How_ am I supposed to know? You're crushing my face into the floor,” Stiles grumbled, his words muffled.

Derek let an annoyed sound bubble up from the back of his throat before struggling to get both men to their feet. Pulling Stiles up by the back of his shirt. Stiles actually kind of appreciated the gesture. Huh.

“Yeah!” Stiles answered when his eyes landed on the cold steel table and the corpse laying on it; “That has to be. Just, like, grab some teeth so we can bail!”

Derek shot the younger man a terse look; “ _How_?”

“Use some wolfy power or something,” Stiles offered, the two of them slinking further into the room.

“ _That's_ helpful,” Derek huffed but moved to peel the animal's jaw open anyway.

Yep. There were a lot of teeth. Sharp ones. “Go on,” Stiles ushered, glancing toward the door and searching for an escape route, should the need arise. There was a window he was pretty sure they could both fit through; “Just pull them out.”

“With what? My bare hands?” Derek snapped.

“Are you saying you can't?” Stiles baited. And Derek took it like a starving fish in a puddle.

Eyes flashing red and never leaving Stiles', Derek reached into the lion's mouth and ripped out a handful of teeth. Then Derek shoved his hand cut and bloody into Stiles' face.

“God what the hell!” Stiles snatched up the teeth and wiped the blood on his sleeve trying to examine Derek's already mending wounds; “I was _joking_. Its this new thing, maybe you've heard of it?”

Derek rolled his eyes; “I got them, didn't I?”

“Yeah but-”

“Is someone back there!?” the fat man yelled from the lobby.

Stiles and Derek shared looks before Stiles tugged them toward the window he'd sought out before. “That is our queue to get the hell out of here.”

“Agreed,” and they both jumped through the screen.

“S, Te, Re, K,” Lydia listed off, rifling through the chemicals Deaton had provided.

“What?” Scott squinted and she huffed handing him a bottled labeled _do not touch._

“Were you _listening_ Scott?” she huffed; “We need a combination of Sulfur, Tellurium, Rhenium and Potassium now shut up and hold this.”

“But these are all metal and rock and stuff,” Scott pressed; “How are we supposed to mix them?”

“We don't,” Lydia continued, standing up and straightening her dress; “We need SO2 from the sulfur, and that's a gas, then the other two only need to be _by_ the ritual stone. As for potassium, Stiles and Derek have to have an elevated level in their blood stream.”

Scott followed Lydia as they moved toward his mom's car—bike forgone in order for the company to ride along. “So...” he urged.

“So,” she seated herself comfortably behind the wheel; “We need to buy **lots** of bananas.”

“And patchouli oil,” Isaac added from the back seat.

“This is so messed up,” Scott shook his head, but agreed to go along none the less.

 

 

* * *

 


End file.
